


No Shame in Your Tears

by DalishFirefly (Regina_Lupus)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Lupus/pseuds/DalishFirefly
Summary: Hawke is clearly suffering, they could all see it even though she put on a brave face to hide it. Merrill intends to finally confront her lover and find the root of the problem.





	No Shame in Your Tears

**Author's Note:**

> 10/3/18 Revision:  
> Good lord! Past-Regi did not know how to start anything. Because I’d writer’s block, I’ve decided to revisit and revise some of my favorite pieces. For this, I’ve made some changes and added a lot.
> 
> Also, if anyone is curious about Merrill’s vision, elves have a membrane called the tapetum lucidum. This causes the eye shine effect much like you’d see in cats or deer (among others) and grants exceptional low light vision. Only drawback is that the image is slightly bleared and colors are not as vivid.
> 
> ~ The More You Know ~

Hawke had a lot of trouble talking about her feelings. Merrill hadn’t noticed, or perhaps hadn’t paid attention to it, before she’d moved in with her. A lot had happened in such a short time, and Hawke was clearly suffering for it. There was so much pain tucked away in her mind that it was beginning to poison her. Merrill had tried to bring it up to her, but she always brushed it off and moved on. That had previously been enough to deter Merrill’s efforts, but tonight she would have none of it.

Predictably, when Merrill brought it up after supper, Hawke deflected. Though she did so more curtly than usual. She was frustrated, and this was suddenly more dangerous. This needed to be done though, and sooner rather than later. Merrill would fix this.

She followed Hawke toward their room, trying again. “Hawke, we need to-“

“No,” she snarled. Warning number two. Merrill pressed on.

“Hawke, plea-“

“I said no, Merrill!”

Merrill froze in the doorway of their shared room, leaving Hawke to storm off toward her balcony. The biting edge of her raised voice startled her enough that she had to stop herself from taking a step back. Hawke had never shouted at her. She’d been angry before, of course, but she didn’t shout. The only person she’d ever shouted at was Carver. When she was angry, she went quiet and disappeared for a bit. When she shouted, something beyond just anger was at work.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to hurt Hawke further, or worse, push her so hard that she tossed Merrill to the streets and revoked any love she’d ever had for her. She wasn’t sure how likely that was, but it was an itching thought that kept her rooted in place for too long. Guilt crept into her thoughts, that Hawke was in pain and she was worried about losing her. This was not for her, this was for Hawke and for that reason she would do this. Maybe she could soften her approach, use her name and not her family name. That thought in mind, she headed for the balcony as quietly as she could.

She found her lover haunched over the railing, her arms crossed over each other. Her shoulders were tense and head held low. It was an altogether too defeated posture for Hawke to have. Merrill’s heart seized and if any lingering doubt had existed, it was gone now. She would fix this, no matter what it might cost her personally.

"Jana.” She spoke softly, but the way the other flinched it would seem like she'd been punched. It was an odd reaction, equal parts surprise and frustration. "Jana, please..."

She stood frozen for a moment, back straightened, hands clutching the railing until her knuckles were white as a Ferelden winter. Time seemed to stand still for several moments. Merrill couldn’t see her face, couldn’t read her eyes, but she could almost see the thoughts as they ran through her mind. She was trying to decide what to do. Finally, she huffed. When she spoke, her voice was low and acidic.

"What do you want to hear, Merrill?" She was refusing to look at her. Her voice was tense with anger, but it wasn’t completely angry. There was something else there.

"I just want you to talk to me," Merrill all but pleaded. She didn’t think to say more, though there was more she could say. She could think of a lot of things to say, but of all the times she wanted to she could not find the voice to say them.

Hawke had been distant ever since they had found Leandra. What's worse is that, after the initial shock wore off, she went about like she was completely unaffected. She brushed off people's words of comfort, ever witty. But Merrill could see the pain behind her self-assured grin. They had only managed to talk about it once, but it had been too soon after and Hawke had been in shock. She had cried only a little before blinking the tears away. The wounds were still gaping, and ignoring them was making them worse.

"I'm talking to you now.” She tried to turn it into a joke, but the laugh was broken. It was an ugly sound that made Merrill want to cry and beg her to let her help.

Merrill glared, or tried to. Trying to glare and hold back tears was a tricky task. "You know that's not what I meant."

"What if I don't want to talk?" She suddenly shouted, turning on her heel. Merrill flinched back a little again, but tried to stand her ground. "Did you think about that? What if I’m handling shit myself and all the damned talking is causing the problem! Not everyone feels better talking about their problems!”

Merrill opened her mouth to retort, only to realize that she had no idea what to say. She clicked her teeth shut, trying to plead with her eyes instead. Hawke knew as well as she did that she wasn’t handling anything, and Hawke knew that she knew. Hawke wanted to think she was handling it because she wanted to be alright, but she wasn’t. She tried to say these things without the words that were failing her. And the anger on Hawke's face vanished. The look that replaced it broke Merrill’s heart, but she didn’t have enough time to register it fully before Hawke turned away again. What she did see surprised her: fear.

"Leave me." The anger was back in her tone, but it was different. It almost sounded broken or forced, as if it had caught on a sob.

She lingered in place. She’d never seen Hawke this... raw, before. She was always so guarded with her emotions. She felt them mightily, but let no one see them. She was afraid, she was heartbroken and Merrill could help her if she would just talk to her. She took a step forward, deliberately ignoring the command and making sure Hawke heard.

"Please!" Hawke cried, causing Merrill to flinch once more. There was desperation in her voice now. Her voice was half-sob.

Saddened and confused, Merrill relented. She’d pushed Hawke far enough. Her own heart was in her throat, so talking for now wouldn’t be happening anyway. She closed the balcony door behind her as she stepped into the bedroom. The room suddenly felt too big, too foreign. It didn't feel right to be here. It was too late to return to her house in the Alienage though. And she wanted to be here when Hawke calmed down. Maybe then they could talk, or at least she could hug her human. Hawke liked hugs, and Merrill couldn’t give her enough.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Merrill looked down at her hands where she folded them in her lap. She thought over everything that happened, trying to understand the fear that had crossed Hawke’s face. Nothing had changed, had it? Was she afraid of Merrill, or something else in her mind? Maybe afraid of what Merrill represented? Someone who cared and listened and wanted to help. But, what sense did that make? Varric cared for her, so did Isabela. She thinks Fenris does, in his own special way, and Anders too. Hawke shouldn’t be afraid of being cared for. But then, what was it?

She thought, and thought and thought some more, but she couldn't understand. The more she thought, the more it hurt her to think about and the more questions she found. She hadn’t realized she was crying, but it hardly mattered.

Eventually she curled up on top of the covers, staring at the balcony door as if trying to will her lover to come to her, to trust her. To talk to her and let her help. Why couldn't Hawke just let Merrill help her? This was hurting her. Why wouldn't she even acknowledge that!

The elf sighed, her eyes slipping closed. She intended to just calm down and try to relax her own mind. When Hawke came in, she needed to be able to find the right words. She must have fallen asleep though, unintentionally, as she was startled from her sleep when the bed dipped near her.

She blinked several times, adjusting her eyes to the darkness of the room. The last rays of the sun had vanished, but the curtains were open enough to let in some dulled moonlight. This served her well, and soon the room came into the slightly bleary, greyed focus that was her vision at night.

Her mind focused then on the figure next to her. Even in the pale light, she couldn't mistake the contrasting dark hair and pale skin. For a moment, Merrill forgot about what had happened and she sat up properly to embrace her lover. She only stopped short when she realized Hawke wasn't looking at her. Then the argument came flooding back.

"I'm sorry," Hawke said quietly. Her voice was rough like she'd been crying, though it could have also been from the shouting. Either way it made Merrill's heart ache, regardless of her lingering frustration. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

For several moments they lapsed into silence, Merrill trying desperately to think of something comforting. When nothing came, she reached out and laid her hand over Hawke’s. Her fingers tightened where they gripped the bedclothes. In a desperate attempt to fill the silence, to comfort her lover, to resolve... something, anything at all, Merrill spoke what was on her mind as plainly as she could.

"This is hurting you," she started softly, giving her lover's hand a gentle squeeze. "Even I can see how much. Why... Why don't you talk about it? Why do you keep it locked up inside where it can hurt you more? Why won't you let me help you?"

Hawke's reply was non-verbal, a shake of her head. Merrill moved so she was sitting on her heels at Hawke's side. She reached out, her fingers found their mark easily with her eyes now adjusted to the room. She trailed them lightly along her lover's jaw, putting a little pressure against it to try and encourage her to turn her head. Hawke jerked her head away.

"I'm not suppose to need help," she said quietly, catching Merrill off guard. "I'm the oldest sibling. I'm the one Father asked to look after everything and everyone. I'm the one all our friends look to as a leader. I'm the one that's suppose to be protecting and taking care of people!" He voice was raising again. She stopped herself, took a shaking breath, before continuing. "I was suppose to take care of everyone, and look what's happened."

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, Merrill understood. The pain was what Hawke was afraid of. She was afraid of hurting, afraid of failing, afraid of needing help. She was afraid and the anger, her nonchalant sarcasm, her deadly wit, these were things she was hiding behind. Merrill's heart twisted. She could not allow this to continue. She would not! Hawke had done so much to help Merrill in the past, and now it was her turn.

Again she moved, settling with her side pressed against Hawke's back. The taller woman peaked over a too tense shoulder. A small amount of curiosity mixed with almost humbling anguish in icy-grey eyes. Merrill didn't hesitate to lean in, wrapping her arms tight around her lover's chest and resting her head against her back. She felt Hawke relax slightly, but could tell she was still guarded. This had to work.

"Let me help you," she said softly, shifting a bit to press a kiss against Hawke's silk covered shoulder. She put everything she was into words, all of her love and sadness, desire and compassion. "Ma vhenan, let me take care of you."

Time seemed to freeze again, but this time Merrill could read her better. She looked anguished, broken and afraid. She looked like she wanted desperately to let Merrill help. The elf squeezed her gently again, and with a heart wrenching sob, Hawke shattered. She didn't fight as Merrill released her and guided her to lie against the pillows. She didn’t protest at being held close, her head cradled in Merrill’s hand. She gave up, and let herself be vulnerable. For once, her voice held no witty comment, but instead was taken by gasps and sobs and broken condemnations that Merrill shot down one by one.

"It's all my fault."

"None of this is your fault."

"I failed them."

"You did everything you could."

"I should have been stronger, faster, better."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me or anyone. You gave everything you were, everything you had within you and more."

Eventually Hawke stopped arguing, though Merrill wasn't sure if she finally believed her words, if she had simply run out of words or if she had lost her voice. She didn't know, and right now she didn't care. She held her Hawke close, as tight as she could. Her grip was just as tight, arms clung to her like a lifeline as she buried her head against Merrill's chest. When the sobbing started to ease a little, Merrill began to run thin fingers gently through soft brown-black hair. Absently she noticed it was getting longer again. Hawke would trim it shorter soon.

When Hawke moved to nuzzle against her neck, tears still falling but silently now, Merrill began to coo to her softly. Sweet nothings and words of affection, spoken in both Common and Elvhen. She didn't think Hawke minded as her breathing soon evened out and deepened, the grip of her arms relaxed by a fraction. Merrill pressed a soothing kiss to her lover's hair before resting her cheek against it.

Hawke's sleep was fitful for awhile. Several times she woke and her tears would almost begin again. Merrill would kiss her sweetly, stroke her cheek and tell her that everything was all right. Hawke was safe, she was safe. Everyone Hawke cared about was very likely asleep in their beds. The vulnerability in her eyes, written over her face, and the fact that she would always cuddle up against Merrill to find sleep once more made the elf feel treasured, chosen. Gifted with something infinitely precious that should never be soiled. And above all it made her finally feel like she truly deserved the woman in her arms.

In the small hours of the morning, Hawke finally settled into a deeper sleep. Only then did Merrill allow herself to drift off as well.

She was awoken to the blue-grey light of morning by a gentle kiss to her ear, and then another to her cheek, along her jaw and finally she felt the soft press of lips against her own. Albeit a little sleepily, she returned the kiss and brought her arms up around Hawke's neck. Hawke's own arms were wrapped tight around Merrill's waist, but the kiss remained slow and sweet.

Hawke broke the kiss gently, and Merrill's eyes fluttered open. She quickly took stock of the situation. Hawke's still red rimmed eyes held a deeply introspective look, which wasn’t rare but odd under these circumstances. Their legs were tangled together, making it obvious to Merrill that not only had they fallen asleep on top of the covers, they had done so while still dressed in their respective finery.

She giggled, snapping Hawke out of her thoughts and putting a small smile on her face. Delighted, Merrill pulled herself closer and snuggled against her, giggling again.

Hawke chuckled softly as well, running her fingers through Merrill's mused hair. "What has you all giggly?" Her voice was still a little rough. Either from sleep or crying, Merrill wasn't sure. It could have been both.

"It's silly, really," she said shyly, tucking her forehead against Hawke's neck. "I don't know why I laughed. It's just the thought that we slept in not sleeping clothes, on top of the covers. I think I'm still a little sleepy, is all. You know..."

She trailed off her rambling, and Hawke huffed a little laugh. She felt the taller woman press a kiss against her head, then nuzzle her hair and sigh softly.

They lapsed into silence again, and Merrill began to drift off once more. She’d been up rather late making sure Hawke got some rest. It didn’t bother her, but she was still quite tired and Hawke was so cuddly. It wouldn’t hurt to sleep a little more. The last thing she heard, spoken on a breath just loud enough for her to hear, was a loving, "Thank you, my heart."


End file.
